The Shortest Distance Between Love & Hate

by Sandy Hall

  “You really did that?” he asks, his face softening almost imperceptibly.

  I nod.

  He nods and stares at the floor.

  “I just wanted to tell you the good news.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “I could help you with calc,” I offer.

  “Thanks, I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay. Well, Jordan will call you soon.”

  “Sure, whatever. Can you close the door on your way out?”

  I do. I stand in the hallway outside of his room for a second to catch my breath. I have work to do. I have a shower to take. And I’m in need of a nap.

  At least I finally did the right thing.

  I go back to the room, intent on studying, but all I can think about is how dirty my hair is. I take a shower, luxuriating in the hot water and then go back to the room where I put on the fluffiest and most comfortable clothes I own and get back to studying.

  I probably shouldn’t flunk out of school on top of everything else.

  As I’m about to get back to studying, Stef comes in.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hi.”

  “You took a shower. How fun for us.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wait so long. I’m just…”

  “Exhausted? Sad? Anxious? Completely wrung out?”

  “All of the above?”

  She grins.

  “I’m really sorry,” I say. “About, you know, everything.”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “No way,” I say. Uncurling from the corner of my bed. “I messed up so much more than you did. All I could think about was Carter.”

  “I was being touchy about relationship stuff since nothing worked out with Melissa. It was hard to watch you be happy with Carter who you pretty much hated this whole semester and somehow ended up in a relationship with.”

  “We weren’t really in a relationship. We were just … making out.”

  “But still, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. And that I was taking things out on you. That’s not fair. At all.”

  “I like you enough that I don’t mind being your punching bag sometimes,” I say with a shrug.

  “Back at you,” she says.

  We stand in the middle of our room and hug, squeezing each other, like if we hug tightly enough maybe we can forget all the bad.

  For a minute it works. Everything terrible in the world feels just a little bit further away.

  “I also, kind of, sort of have a date.”

  “With Melissa?” I ask.

  “With a girl from my psych class.” She smiles so wide I can’t help but smile with her.

  “That’s awesome.”

  “It is,” she agrees. “There are always other fish, Paisley.”

  “There are,” I say.

  “I guess we should study,” Stef says with a sigh.

  Just like that, the terrible comes crashing back in. But at least things are okay with Stef. At least I got Carter’s job back.

  At least I’ll be able to sleep tonight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  -CARTER-

  Sleep is good.

  I like sleep way more than I remembered.

  I let myself sleep almost a whole day after my last exam. My mom and Thea pick me up the next morning, and I take home whatever I need for my nearly month’s long vacation. I look around the room, making sure I’m not forgetting anything.

  When I get home, I watch a lot of TV, not even caring what’s on.

  I think about maybe texting Paisley, but I think that might be a bad idea. I’m not completely sure that I’m ready for her. I will be, though. Because I miss her. I miss her a lot more than I could have expected. And she did make things right in the end. Through her own Paisley brand of justice, I suppose.

  The second day of break, I force myself to put on real clothes and I go to the mall. I really need to buy my mom a Christmas present. I don’t find anything.

  When I get home from my failed shopping trip, there are two pieces of mail waiting for me. One is a package with a familiar return address and the other is a smaller envelope with an unfamiliar return address.

  I open the envelope first, since that’s the wild card.

  It’s a handwritten note from my dad with tickets to the aquarium.

  Carter—

  I know I messed up. And I’m sorry. I’m not going to give you a long lecture about how I deserve to be in your life, but I’d at least like you to consider it.

  I’d like to take you the aquarium. Just as a first step. If you don’t want to go with me, take someone else, but at least have fun.

  Sometimes saying I’m sorry is the hardest thing you can do, but I know how hard accepting apologies can be too. I want you to know that I’m trying and that if you meet me halfway I’ll do my best to never let you down again.

  Love, Dad

  I want to be angry with him, but it’s hard to hate someone in the face of tickets to the aquarium. Maybe it’s time to try again. I’m older. I’m more prepared to be disappointed. I could always meet him there, so even if he ditches me (again) I’d still get to spend a day at the aquarium. It’d be a win-win situation. Even more than that, it’d give him the chance to prove me right all over again.

  But wouldn’t it be nice if he could prove me wrong?

  I slide the envelope into my back pocket. I need to think about that a little more.

  When I open the package, I find a T-shirt with the words I’M SORRY emblazoned on the front and a sad face emoji on the back.

  Thea walks in as I’m examining it.

  I hold it up for her. “It’s from Paisley.”

  “Oh, that’s … That’s sweet. Kind of weird, but sweet.”

  “She makes T-shirts. She screen-prints them herself. It’s, like, her hobby.”

  “Less weird. Still sweet. Also, still a little weird.”

  “Are you experiencing some kind of malfunction wherein the only words you know are sweet and weird?”

  “Weirdly sweet, sweetly weird,” Thea says, nodding.

  “That’s a really good description of Paisley, honestly.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Thea asks.

  “I want to see her. I miss her. Maybe we could have a fresh start.” If I’m thinking about giving my dad a second chance, there’s no reason not to do the same for Paisley. After that day she came to tell me she got my job back, I wanted to talk to her, I wanted to say more. But my brain was muddled and exams were busy. It was all too much. I wasn’t going to be my best self.

  “Sounds good.”

  “I don’t know if I trust her,” I say, leaning my hip on the kitchen counter and squeezing the T-shirt in my hands. I’m glad Thea doesn’t know about what my dad sent me, because I don’t want to talk about that. But I do want to talk about Paisley.

  “Or myself,” I add as an afterthought. “I get so angry sometimes.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “So, no advice?”

  “None.”

  “But I need advice.”

  “It seems like I’ve given you lots of advice over the past few months, and I have a feeling it wasn’t always the kind you needed. I’m going to leave you to your own devices on this one,” she says, breezing out of the kitchen.

  There’s got to be someone who can give me some advice, someone who knows Paisley well enough to help. I pick up my phone and send a text.

  -PAISLEY-

  What I want to do when the semester is over is sleep for a week. Exams are exhausting. I feel like no one warned me about how exhausting they would be.

  Obviously, it wasn’t helpful that I was also going through one of the most emotionally stressful times of my life. But whatever.

  I didn’t see Carter again after that afternoon in his room, minus a few run-ins at exams. But I didn’t even try to talk to him. I didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with him and exams.

  Maybe I’ll
send him a text over the break, maybe I won’t.

  Maybe he’ll send me a text, once he gets my apology T-shirt. The post office said it might take up to a week for it to get to him this time of year, but at least it’ll get there. At least he’ll know I thought of him.

  I spend the first couple of days of winter break at home in my pajamas. I start working again at my high school job. The turnover rate in the mall food court is pretty high, so my old boss wants me back even if it’s only for a couple of weeks. At least he won’t have to train me.

  After a long shift at the potato stand on Christmas Eve Eve, I head over to Henry’s. We’re snuggled up in his basement TV room watching The Last Jedi.

  “Who are you texting?” I ask when Henry’s screen lights up for the millionth time in the past hour.

  “No one,” he says.

  “If it’s Amelia Vaughn, I’m not helping you again this time.”

  “It’s not Amelia Vaughn.”

  “Is it some other girl?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Is it Jana? Are things working out between you two?”

  “Actually,” he starts.

  I pause the movie, waiting for more explanation and really hoping that maybe he’s worked things out with her.

  “I’ve been kind of talking to this girl who works at the reserves desk in the engineering building.”

  “Oooh la la!” I say. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me about her. The reserves desk girl and your calc TA. Are you juggling two women?”

  “I’m not juggling two women. Jana and I are taking a big step back. Mostly because she says I’m young and inexperienced. Which I am. The reserves desk girl, Laila, her name is, she’s, I don’t know. We only talk when I’m there. But maybe something can happen.”

  “Laila Lai? Doesn’t have the best ring to it. I’d tell her to keep her own last name, but aside from that, I’m sure you’ll be perfect together.”

  “We’re not getting married.” Henry rolls his eyes. “And I can’t believe that you would imply that a woman would have to take my last name if we did.”

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I’m teasing you, Henry.”

  “Fine. But we’re nothing.”

  “But you’ve been texting her all night,” I point out.

  “Oh no,” he says, shaking his head and giving me a patented no-nonsense Henry look. “This isn’t Laila.”

  “You’re driving me up the wall. Who. Are. You. Talking. To.”

  I grab for his phone and he dives to pull it away, but I’m too fast. My reflexes are too much for him. I look at the screen as another text pops up.

  “You sure?” the latest text says.

  And it’s from Carter.

  My Carter.

  “You’re texting Carter?”

  “Yes,” Henry says, grabbing his phone back and typing a message.

  “Why?”

  “Well, he might be coming over.”

  “What? I have to leave.”

  “He’s not coming over to see me, Paisley,” Henry says.

  I grab my coat, but I can’t find one of my gloves; it seems to have fallen out of the pocket. “Is this an ambush?”

  “Maybe more like an intervention.”

  “What? Why are you being so coy? I need real answers.”

  Henry explains how Carter texted him earlier, hoping that Henry could give him some advice about me. And Henry obliged, because Henry is the best.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “I didn’t love doing this. Mostly because ew, emotions. But you needed some help.”

  “I did. Especially since emotions are the worst.”

  Henry’s phone lights up again.

  “He’s outside.”

  “Are you coming?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Keep the movie paused?”

  “Nah. I think we can continue some other time. You need to talk to Carter. Don’t worry about me.”

  I leave through the basement door. I look up at the sky. It’s supposed to snow tonight, so the stars are all covered in clouds.

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes, imagining a moonlit sky peppered with stars.

  I make a wish and hope that there’s a star out there somewhere to grant it.

  -CARTER-

  It’s starting to snow as Paisley comes around the side of the house. She’s all bundled up in a ski jacket that I’ve never seen her wear before. She has a hat and gloves on, and I realize she’s way more prepared for the weather than I am.

  I didn’t know it was going to snow or I would have put on a warmer jacket.

  It’s really cold out.

  “Carter?” she asks, her confused voice floating across the street.

  And then she’s right in front of me. I forget all about the cold. I feel warmer than I have in weeks just because she’s standing there.

  “I got your package,” I say.

  “Oh cool. You could have texted me about it. You didn’t have to come here.”

  “I wanted to see you,” I say.

  “I wanted to see you too. But I thought”—she pauses and shakes her head—“I thought I ruined everything. I’m so sorry if I ruined everything. I never meant to be a ruiner. I got in over my head in every possible way.”

  I shrug. “It happens. Sometimes it just happens. I got in over my head too. I don’t really know how to share? Like, emotionally.”

  “Well, I’m still sorry. Like, really sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I never meant to hurt you either.”

  “Well, in the interest of honesty. I did mean to hurt you, sometimes. Like back in September. Back then. But I never meant to really hurt you. I never meant to ruin you.”

  “You didn’t ruin me.”

  “I certainly tried,” she says, her tone earnest.

  “You didn’t deserve the things I said to you at Thanksgiving. I was, well, I had a lot going on. And I guess instead of telling you and letting you in, I pushed you away. That wasn’t cool.” It feels like my mouth is full of marbles. I expect her to say something, ask me questions, have a big talk about everything we each did wrong. But I can never predict Paisley.

  “So why are you here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you.”

  “It’s Christmas Eve Eve and I wanted to give you this.” I hand her the poorly wrapped box that I’m holding.

  She grins. “Did you wrap this yourself?”

  “How could you tell?”

  I shiver.

  “We could sit in the car,” she says. “If you’re too cold.”

  “In a minute. I want to see you right in front of me a little longer.”

  She gives me a confused look and then opens the box, pulling out a red T-shirt.

  CAN WE KETCHUP SOMETIME? it reads.

  She laughs. She laughs so hard she drops the box and the wrapping paper. The wind picks them up and blows them around the street.

  We both chase after the debris, trying to catch the quickly scattering paper.

  A minute later, we have everything and the snow is coming down harder.

  “Let’s get in the car,” I say.

  She follows me and slides into the passenger seat. I dump the box and the paper in the back and stare at her.

  “So I was hoping we could try again,” I say, after we’re quiet for a few minutes. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I can’t take the silence.

  “Really?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “I have to ask, where did you get the T-shirt on such short notice?”

  “Oh, well, I actually had it made a while ago.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I thought it’d be a good Christmas present.”

  “It’s perfect.” She looks back over at me. “So when are we going to get back to trying again?”

  “Maybe now?”

  I smile.

  “I think now is as good a time as any,” she says, leaning over the center console. “You never fail to su
rprise me.”

  “Right back at you,” I say.

  And we kiss. It’s even better than the first time. Better than the second time, third time, fourth time. I don’t even know how that’s possible. Maybe it’s the relief mixed in with everything else. But it’s a damn good kiss.

  “Listen,” I say, pulling away. “I need a favor from you.”

  “Anything.”

  “I know it’s eight o’clock on Christmas Eve Eve, but I haven’t found a present for my mom yet. Any chance you’d be willing to brave the mall and help me?”

  “If it was anyone else, I’d say no. But for you?”

  “Also no?”

  She laughs. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”

  “You’re too good to me.”

  “I thought we already established that I’m really not,” she says.

  I put the car into drive.

  “You’re perfect to me,” I say, threading our fingers together.

  And I mean it.

  “Right back at you,” she says with a grin.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As usual, top billing must go to my wonderful editor, Holly West. Her patience, guidance, enthusiasm, and kindness are always top-notch. I wouldn’t be publishing my fifth book without her. Many thanks to Lauren Scobell, who mentioned that she thought I should try my hand at an “enemies to lovers” book (she was right) and to Emily Settle for always being so helpful. I’d also like to thank Andre-Naquian Wheeler, who read a late draft of this book and came up with so many ways to make it stronger.

  Big thanks to my favorite draft reader, Lauren Velella. And even bigger thanks to Jennifer Honeybourn and Natalie Williams for each reading a draft and giving such incredibly useful feedback. I’m a better writer because of my writing friends.

  Sometimes I’ll have conversations that really shape a story, and this book was no different. Michelle Petrasek listened to me babble about the plot at the very beginning of the process and Karole Cozzo listened to me toward the very end. Without those two conversations the whole shape of the story would be different.

  I couldn’t do any of this without the love and support of my family, especially my mom, Pat. Thanks for everything, Mom.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR